The Greatest Colour
by CrazyIndigoChild
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are the unlikeliest of lovers; Harry's been known to give and Draco prides himself on taking too much, sucking his prized Potter dry. But Harry can only take so much before it's Draco's turn to take the blunt end of humiliation. For RoseOnWater


**Hey! Long time no see :) Well that's because I have a couple things up my sleeve... that I often forget to post online :P Whoops.**

**So this is for my friend RoseOnWater for being such a nice gal :) She wanted a Draco/Harry and, although I only saw maybe 3 of the movies when I was in grade school (I'm in University now do you can imagine how long ago that was) I tried my best to milk my Potter friends for details. Let's hope they don't make a liar out of me!**

**~CrazyIndigoChild**

* * *

It's a strange thing I've gotten myself into, this dizzy whirlwind that makes everything- _everyone _else seem minute, trivial even. Like my life has become one smudgy blod of colours; Gryffindor red and gold, Ravenclaw blue, Hufflepuff yellow. And right there, smack dab in the middle of it all, is a grey void that the colour bleeds into and disappears through the page.

I may never admit it to anyone else, but that grey black-hole is probably the greatest and most amazing thing to ever happen. Colour after colour burns through like the feathers of a pheonix in its deathfire, and it's my job to find the right colours to fill it in. Flattering yellow, love that's red like the press of lips, maybe a royal blue valiance.

Right now I feel the bright orange glare of shame for every colour in my 64 pack of crayons have been worn to the quick trying to cram every imaginable colour into this one damn spot of grey that just wont relent! Why?!

"Potter?"

Maybe I can sneak away sometime over the weekend to pick some of the wailing peonies in the garden. That'll at least be some kind of foot in a door somewhere. Maybe.

"Potter!"

Then again wailing peonies don't make that great of a gift, no matter how much their screams sing true to the tantrum of frustration my mind spirals into at the mere though of-

"POTTER!" The desk before me rocks and groans quietly under the roaring slam of the wizarding world's largest, most boring, brain-numbingly redundant book of Magical plants: Purposes and Uses, Volume 1. I vaguely wonder whether a second volume was really worth not reading, my glassy eyes trailing upwards to the swollen disapproving grimace of Professor Sprout. Her gaze permanently hardened from the years of hard gardening she's... _survived_.

_Blimey Harry, you want to pass don't you?_ "I'm sorry, Professor, I must have dozed off."

"You must have," agreed Sprout, "Up all night skipping off with your lads will be your downfall, Harry."

I'm already halfway down, Pomona. A couple voices snicker at the back of the class. "Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am."

"...That's quite alright so long as you don't make a habit of it."

"I will do my best."

Class passed lost in the daydreams of schemes and their eventual rewards. I imagined a frilly white petticoat peeking out from a deep forest-coloured skirt; the hairs on my neck thrilled despite the thick musky smell of wood and rampant boredom. Beside me Neville yawned and flopped his head into his open text. And somehow _I _was on Sprout's radar.

Class ended with a parade of clapping textbooks and a crazed mob rushing to the door. Chatter outside the classroom echoed up and down the halls and flooded back into the chambered classroom like a booming swarm of buzzards. "Hey Potter!"

That voice, that silky smug and tantalizing voice. I can feel it cascade over the heads of my peers and come crashing down on my head like a two-ton anvil of inferiority. "Try not to nod off in the grand staircase; we need someone to sweep up the Quidditch field with after tomorrow's game."

Up ahead the room shifted- flipped itself on a funhouse mirror- so that everyone was presently facing me, some shifting aside to make the slightest passage out into the corridor where students had flooded the halls on their way to the next class. All the students except the ones currently loitering in Sprout's class.

Who, of course, had snuck off the first chance she got to prepare for her next class in the Greenhouses proper. The sleeveless pullover I'd thought appropriate for late fall this morning proved to be something of a personal furnace. My veins snapped shut against the icy torrents of my chilled blood making it very difficult to think on my next move when I spotted the bright blond crown of the class's sharpest pain in the rear flashing through a patchwork of green sweater wearing students.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Though I had been stunned into silence my ever loyal friends Ron and Hermione stumbled anxiously to the forefront of the stage, placing themselves effectively between Draco and I.

Funny, I think as I'm watching Draco's long snaking mouth pull back into a lecherous smile, how powerful no one realizes he is.

At that moment the lizard bares its fangs: "What's got you all bothered, Potter? Can't stay awake for a simple Herbology and now you're dozing off at my feet? You better not be dreaming about me, the way you're always looking my way in class-"

It's Hermione who cuts in with a disgusted scoff. "Likely."

Draco looks my way and frowns. Disappointment. Another splotch of grey spreading its disease into my confidence, forcing me to retaliate with colour when the boy turns his back to walk away.

I push passed my friends. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Draco?" I guffaw, making it loud and clear enough to demand the students' attention, "It would certainly help your poor cause to have the affections of the only wizard who could both find himself in Dumbledore's favour _and _discover the most hidden secrets of Hogwarts... without his father's pocketbook."

Slytherin looks to me, Gryffindor's watching me, Ravenclaw has left to their next classes, and HufflePuff is providing a spectacular bystander audience, complete with appropriate gasps and worried looks to fueI our fires. Draco rears back for a full force retaliation. "I don't need the affections of a dozy git like you for it would only taint my hard earned reputation, one which you have so easily come into without so much as a dart of talent." Brazenly he steps forward with the slow steady steps of a predator in chase; I can smell his cologne gently wafting over me as he peers into my face and continues with devastating me. "Take away your father's reputation and the favour of a former Gryffindor playmate and you would be no better off than that snivelling spit, Weasley."

Ron cries out his protest but Draco's quick to silence him with a steady hand. "Miracles don't happen, Ronald, everyone has a price. Even a sorting hat."

Heat rises within me, prickles every nerve from toe to hair tip. Bile gathers but I swallow it down with the urge to swing my fist in that Irish cream coloured cheek of his. It would probably feel like punching a delicate satin pillow. "To think your father didn't have the money to get you out of a house like Slytherin," I say, "Or perhaps he saw the curlish prat of a lost cause and dumped you in the pit with the rest of the misfits."

"Harry!" Hermione snaps behind me but Draco's sudden lurch forward has my full attention. I hear a wall of hissing growing around me and I wonder if Slytherins require practice to sound like the snakes they are.

He reaches fast and grabs my tie by the knot. An inching thumb nudges it up against my throat until it's almost impossible to resist gagging."You better watch yourself, Potter. Lest we forget that you had to cry and beg your way into Gryffindor."

Stiffly I manage an even "Only because the mere thought of being affiliated with the likes of you made me sick."

"Sick? That's not the word I'd use to describe the way you-"

Before I could scream, before I couple puke- even before I could smell the tantalizing hint of pudding on his breath, I smash my mouth onto his and enclose his mouth with mine. My lips make haste in moulding to the contours of his own for but a brief second before he struggles free.

Draco gasps and shoves me so hard it sends me stumbling back into Hermione's arms. Spins on his heels and bolts for the door. Leaves me standing there, caught in a wake of grey inadequacy. I wrestle back the urge to follow, opting to stay back with my Gryffindor friends than be caught running after a Slytherin.

Once the Slytherin snakes slip out of the classroom I'm off in a flash, winding this way and that through the thick crowd of students, one face imprinted in my mind.

I manage to work myself into a clammy sweaty mess by the time I made it into the courtyard, books under my arm and a wild energy flowing through me like wildfire as I all but ran across the yard to- _wait, where am I going?_

My next class was an advanced Creation class but somehow my feet had led me clear across the courtyard and up the Grand Staircase. I took extra precaution to follow Draco's advice and tried not nod off as I was directed from one floor to the next.

With my chin tucked into the collar of my cloak the stairs shifted beneath me. The stairs are empty but I try my best to keep my face hidden from the paintings. Eventually the stairs shudder to a stop.

_First floor._

Sticking to the shadows I wander down one hall and the next until I clear the classroom doors. Foolish feet lead me stumbling down the corridors until my eyes land on a door. It was a dark, dusty door that looked rigid with lack of use; one you wouldn't expect to be able to open without an axe or chainsaw.

Of course that was what we wanted the others to believe.

For some stupid reason I knock before entering. I spot his green knit bent over the sink; in the mirror his face is pale and trembling... colourless. I toss my books in front of the door. "...Draco?"

"You humiliated me, Potter."

I push the door shut behind me and cautiously take the first steps towards the sinks. "You started it. I finished it."

Slamming his fist into the filthy porcelain he spins on me and spits at my feet. "You sure as hell finished it, yeah? Kissing me was your payback for calling you out."

"Well... you wanted something dramatic." I slump against the sinks beside him and stuff my hands deep inside my trouser pockets. "I doubt it won't be the biggest news on campus since the fat lady and Violet got smashed and disappeared for the week of exams."

Draco relented with a drawn-out sigh. "Now I'm going to be rumoured as your little pansy plaything."

"Or you could be the victim of a very vicious attack."

His smile is faint and washed out, but he pushes from the sink and easily closes the space between us with two smooth steps. Instinctively his fingers glide over the faint stubble along my jaw. "I have to say, Potter, you do surprise me sometimes."

"You hate surprises," I chuckle and slide my hands around his waist.

I lean in to crowd his neck with soft little kisses until he's unbuttoning his dark green cloak and letting it slip to the bathroom floor. Unashamedly he tilts his head back and reveals the soft creamy skin peeking out from his starchy collar. "Yeah, and I'm not very fond of you right now."

"Liar. You can't get enough of me."

His pause gives me reason to look up into his thin face and there I finally see it. Where his white snowy face once haunted me now all I could see was a thick rosy blush. "I'll get you next time," he promises softly, fingers gliding through my hair.

As much as I hated being shown up I couldn't restrain from crushing the intoxicatingly arousing wizard. I hugged him; all the while, behind my closed eyes, I was overcome with the image of his pink skin. The perfect pink to fill in all the grey.


End file.
